


Fraternal Order

by iulia_linnea



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-08-24
Updated: 2009-08-24
Packaged: 2017-10-03 23:36:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 478
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23540
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iulia_linnea/pseuds/iulia_linnea
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Originally posted under the sub-pseudonyms of ouphe (Dreamwidth) and an_ouphe (LiveJournal) in response to <a href="http://soberloki.livejournal.com/profile">soberloki</a>'s prompt of <i>George: red, despair, non-explodable luminous balloon</i>.</p>
    </blockquote>





	Fraternal Order

**Author's Note:**

  * For [soberloki](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=soberloki).



> Originally posted under the sub-pseudonyms of ouphe (Dreamwidth) and an_ouphe (LiveJournal) in response to [soberloki](http://soberloki.livejournal.com/profile)'s prompt of _George: red, despair, non-explodable luminous balloon_.

You can't pierce them. Flame doesn't warp them. Squeezing the damned things between his hands doesn't work, either. They fill and fill and fill with air, but the bastards never fucking pop. George has tried everything to burst the non-explodable, luminous red balloon in his hands—everything he can think of to burst them all—but they keep streaming from Fred's pillow, filling and filling and filling with air, and they just won't pop. What's in his heart now is more fury than despair; Fred was a thoughtless bastard. Each balloon stares back at him like a brother—his fucking brother, _him_—and it's not such a neat trick now, is it, the animated grinning and winking?

He's so horrified, sitting wounded and useless amongst his brother's flotilla of balloons that it isn't until he suddenly can't breathe that he notices Percy amidst what can only be called an epic deflation.

"What the fuck did you do?" George demands, removing the Bubble-Head Charm from himself as limp, hissing balloons rain down on them.

There's an odd popping sensation as the air rushes back into the room.

"Oh," George says, as Percy removes his own charm. "How'd you know to take the air away? I never would have thought to do that."

Percy coughs and sheathes his wand. "What a hideous prat Fred was. Tears on his pillow, was it?"

"Er, yeah."

"And what did you plan for him, if you died first?"

"Who says that I—"

Percy's pointed expression stops George from speaking.

"With you two, someone always had to get in the last joke."

"Well, that'll stop now, won't it?" George whispers. "Seeing as how there won't be anyone to find my last joke when I go."

The floor squelches as Percy makes his way to the bed and sits down. Through a sigh, he says, "There'll be me. I'll look for it—but don't assume I'll come cry on your pillow."

George snorts. "Never. You don't even like me."

"You're my brother," Percy says, squeezing George's hand.

"Aw, Perce, you do ca—"

"Of course I don't like you."

George can't help it; he laughs. "Arse."

Percy's not laughing, though. His jaw is rigid, and he appears to be trembling—but that could just be because of the way he's rapidly tapping his foot.

"Here," George says, passing Percy Fred's pillow to hold. "Just don't cry on it. I don't know how to take the air out of the room."

Rocking, Percy whispers, "He was. He was a prat."

"Yeah," says George, as the room fills and fills and fills with the unsound of Percy's stubbornly uncried tears. "Our prat."

When the balloons finally do come, George doesn't mind them so much because Percy seems so pleased that Fred's joke was on him, too, and it feels good, knowing that he's still got a brother in Percy.


End file.
